


Sin

by Retrusa



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Retrusa/pseuds/Retrusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hawke and a wolf should never have ended up allies. Even so, the alliance will spark a certain forbidden connection between the two. A certain... sin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was half asleep.

 Breathe. You tell yourself that it was all just a lie, one elaborate prank to get you drunk and undressed and under the covers with him.  
 No, he didn't actually have feelings for you, it was all just the wine. So much wine.  
 So much crying.

 Fenris drinks a lot. Not because he enjoys it, but because he has so much of it. Because of what it represents.  
 Freedom.  
 "Hawke, hold still," Fenris scolds.  
 You sigh at his persistence in helping, it's wholly unnecessary. Surely you can-  
 "Ow!" You let out a yelp when trying to pull off your mantle, accidentally impaling yourself in the face.   
 Your head hurts after the concussion you received in battle about an hour ago, but only when touched.  
 Actually, your whole body still hurts like hell. Criminals and bandits rarely fight fair, but ogres are just outright ruthless.  
 "I told you to stop moving," he says, and you succumb, letting him gently lift the metal plate over your head and putting it down beside him on the floor.  
 You sulk in silence, having to have help in taking off  _your armour._  
 "You fought well today, Hawke" Fenris says, pulling off your gloves and spiked pauldron as you look away in shame.  
 "Really?" you say, "I thought you never noticed, seeing as you were practically hand-in-hand with the beast."  
 A sly grin appears on his face.  
 "And I would have had difficulty in doing so if it wasn't for your  _magic._ " He says so with such disgust for the word, but you know he can't help it.  
 "Thank you," you say, showing your genuine gratitude for all that he's done.  
 You sigh, looking around the dimly lit mansion that Fenris 'inherited' from his former master, Danarius, as he removes his gauntlets and chestplate, exposing the lyrium markings that cover his hands.   
 Fenris obscures your view of the room, sitting in the chair opposite to you. He shows you weakness.  
 "You are in pain," he observes, leaning over the table slightly.  
 You hold your head in your hands, throbbing, wishing that you had enough strength to cast a healing spell, trying to focus on anything else at the moment.  
 "How could you tell?" You say sarcastically.  
 Fenris rises to his feet, crossing the room and leaving your company while you massage your temples pathetically.  
 He returns, two bottles in hand, and places one in front of you, taking his seat across from you.  
 He opens it, taking a drink as you watch, tipping the bottle down again as he stares back at you.  
 You never liked wine.  
 "Fenris?" You ask, your voice raising slightly. His silence invites you to continue. "Do you ever think about leaving Kirkwall?"  
 A pause, as he casually tips the bottle back.  
 "No."  
 Your eyes leave his. You take a drink, the taste bitter and harsh on your tongue.   
 You both remain silent for a while, drinking the old and expensive wine that you loathed but drank anyway. And then you hear your name.  
 "Hawke?" He asks, his voice filled with concern.  
 You look back at him, and suddenly you notice.  
 A tear slides down your cheek.  
 You laugh, wiping it away quickly.  
 "Sorry," you apologize, a laugh on your lips. Fenris doesn't look convinced.  
 "What can I do?" He asks finally.  
 "It's nothing," you push it aside, "it's just... my injuries, that's all."  
 "Where does it hurt?" He asks.  
 You smile, trying to deter him in thinking that you could possibly need any more help. It's not like he can heal them, anyway.  
 "My head, mostly. And my shoulders and arms and legs, but you know..." you mumble quickly.  
 Suddenly Fenris is up, crossing the threshold between you two and kneeling, staring into your eyes and taking your chin in his hand, gently, softly, and closing his eyes as he leans in and kisses you.  
 It is only brief, but it is long enough to give you shivers all the way down your spine.  
 "Again," he asks, and you almost forgot what you were just complaining about.  
  Your body feels hot, as Fenris's face is only mere inches from yours, staring intently with those emerald eyes of his.  
 "M... my head," you say, and he lifts his head, delicately touching his lips to the crown of your head, "my shoulders," you continue, as Fenris carefully pulls back the sleeve of your shirt, making your belly fill with butterflies as he kisses the both of your shoulders, so softly, "my arms," you say, and he leaves trails of kisses down each arm, all the way to your fingers, which he holds close to his face, his breaths making you feel antsy, "and my legs," you say it without thought, without pause. Wishing only that you had more places for him to kiss.  
 He hooks his fingers behind your belt, tugging it off with ease and tossing it aside. With one swift motion, he's undoing your pants, and you can't help but run your hands through his soft hair as he slides off your pants.  
 He starts from your feet, kissing every bruise and scar with care, lingering too long only on the inside of your thighs.  
 You can feel your heart beating quickly inside of your chest, and his forehead touching your abdomen.  
 You tighten your grip on his hair, pulling him closer, and letting go a sigh of contentment.  
 "Fenris," you breathe heavily, but he's already pulling off your panties with his teeth.  
 Your breathing is rigid, harsh with desire, and you can even see the rise and fall of his own chest.  
  He licks the inside of your tight, and you can feel strands of his white hair tickling your belly.   
 You grin to yourself, as he pushes your thighs apart and angles his head between your legs.  
 His tongue is cold, steady, and you pull on his hair whenever he hits all the right spots, your back arching and your body groaning in pleasure.  
 Fenris sighs, his chest shrinking with his breath as he sinks his hand into his pants, his arm gradually moving up and down as he fills your body with feelings of bliss.  
 He lifts his head as you let go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and gathering you up into his strong arms with ease, carrying you to the bed where your hair spills around you on the pillow and Fenris begins undoing his pants, straddling your hips.  
 He leans forward down onto you, his eyes full of lust and longing, and he whispers to you in that harsh voice of his, "I am yours."


End file.
